


Dude

by Todesengel



Series: Mag7 Bingo [5]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todesengel/pseuds/Todesengel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra's an asshole, Vin's monosyllabic, and apparently only JD speaks the language of "Dude".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dude

"I'd like to take this moment to remind you of the debt you owe me, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said, as calm as could be.

Vin stared at him for a moment as if he'd lost his mind, then said, "Dude. _Gunfight_. Priorities, much?"

Ezra peered over the top of their makeshift barricade – wooden boxes apparently full of Kevlar vests, given the way they were keeping the two agents from becoming ATF Roadkill – at the small gang of not-very-good gunrunners currently shooting at them. "They are clearly reloading their weapons. Besides, I would prefer that you pay me back now, just in case one of these jackasses manages to hit something he's aiming for."

Vin gave him the long stare again, then shook his head. He checked his clip and wiped some sweat out of his eyes. " _Dude_."

"Money is important, Vin. You surely wouldn't want to go to your grave with a debt over your head." Ezra reloaded his weapon and peered over the barrier again. "And don't call me 'dude'."

"Yeah, yeah." Vin fished his badge out of his jacket and flashed it above his head, before pulling his arm down as fast as he could. "ATF! Drop your weapons now!"

Ezra cocked his head to one side and, after listening to the string of Spanish and the sharp staccato of gunfire, turned back to Vin. "I don't believe they wish to comply with our request."

"Spanish," Vin muttered. "Hell, why didn't I take Spanish in High School?"

"Don't look at me. Spanish is not one of many tongues."

"You and your tongues. Uh. Bureau de Alcohol, Tobacco y, uh, Firearms. Por favor, uh. Aw fuck it. We're federales, pendejos! Manos on your cabezas, motherfuckers! Do it! Now!"

"Oh, yes, that's very culturally sensitive," Ezra said, and then it was all gunfire and shouting and the rest of the team bursting in through the doors and out flanking the gang. The adrenaline ran cold and spiky through him, heightened the sound of his blood pounding in his ears, but deadened the physical sensations of the world – so much so that he only noticed that he was bleeding when Nathan corralled him after the fight and sat him down on the lip of the team's official gas guzzler.

"Well," Ezra said. "I believe that was quite the neat little job. At least on my end."

"You sayin' it's my fault things went down like they did?"

"If the tacky shoes fit…"

"Ezra, I swear, if I didn't have a bullet in my shoulder –"

"You've got a bullet _crease_ in your shoulder. Am I right, Nathan?"

"Yes but –"

"Hardly life threatening. But if you feel a minor wound like that will slow you down--"

"Slow me down? Ezra, I could beat you like a piñata even if I had two broken legs and a massive head wound. But seeing as how I'm bleedin' here--"

"Aww, does'um have a booboo? Maybe if you hadn't called them pendejos, they would have been more inclined to cooperate. Perhaps you should have called them 'dude', instead? They seemed to be about your level of social grace."

"They were pendejos. And, _dude_ , as soon as Nathan's done I'm gonna –"

"You ain't gonna do nothing, Vin! Not 'til I says you can. Or do you want me to stitch you up without the painkillers? That local is a _privilege_ , not a right, and I can take it away any damn time I please. Now sit your ass down and hold still, or you're going to end up with sutures that'll look like a blind cat sewed them."

"But Nathan—"

"Sit. Your ass. Down." Nathan growled, leveling on the two of them the glare of a man who can force an agent onto desk duty should he so choose.

"I was just—" Ezra began, but Vin cut him off with a look full of disgust and annoyance; the one he wore just before taking a probie to task for improper gun maintenance.

" _Dude_ ," Vin said. "Soon as I'm patched up, we're going to have words."

"I'll take any words you happen to know. Just so long as not a single one of them is 'Dude'."

"That a fact."

"I'll even lend you my thesaurus. That's a reference book, by the way. Not a dinosaur."

"I know what a thesaurus is, _dude_. I ain't exactly illiterate."

"Well, your speech habits could have fooled me."

"Just 'cause I don't go 'round dropping $5 words every chance I get –"

"At least I have the common courtesy to call people by their Christian name, not some Californian slang term—"

"When I get done here I'll—"

"Ok, that does it. Y'all are seriously asking for the tranq gun, aren't you." Nathan tightened the last of the sutures on Vin's arm with more force than was strictly necessary and rounded on Ezra. "Don't think I won't use 'em."

"But Nathan," Ezra said, "think of all the paperwork."

"I am. And boys, I gotta tell ya', the thought of doing paperwork is only barely keeping me from shooting you both right now. And the thought of shooting you is starting to look better and better."

"Dude," Vin said as he got up. "This? So your fault."

"Don't call me dude!"

*

Ezra knew there was something wrong when he walked into the bullpen at ten the next morning – still too early for him, but rather late for the more insane members of his team. He had long since grown used to the eye rolls and vague lowering of brows in disapproval, but this was something different. This was like that time in Aspen, when he tried to get the Bureau to pay for his apres-ski drinks. And massage. And that moonlight sleigh ride with the amazing IRA smuggler. Still, he had not become as good an undercover agent – and, before that, a rising con artiste (no simple artist for Maude Standish's son, after all) – without learning how to act like everything was normal when, in fact, it was all FUBAR all the time.

"Ezra," Chris said, from where he sat slouched against Ezra's desk, his arms folded across his chest. "Reckon you can shed some light on this?"

"On what?"

"This," Chris said, and nodded towards Vin, who nodded at Ezra and said, "Dude."

Ezra furrowed his brow in confusion – just for a second – and then turned back to Chris, the bewildered shock on his face only 98% feigned. "Why I'm sure I don't know what this is about. Mr. Tanner habitually greets me with that…uncouth bit of slang."

"Yeah, but he don't do it to the rest of us," Buck said. "And he don't do it to every question you ask him."

"Well, I surely can't be blamed for our Vin's…mental irregularities. I am just a simple officer of the law after all," and Ezra grinned along with the rest of the team at the depth of untruth to his words, "and am entirely unqualified to perform any sort of psychiatric evaluation."

"Dude."

"Vin says: stop being an asshole," JD said from his desk. He twirled a pencil on his fingers and added, "And this is your fault."

"My fault? And I am not an asshole." Ezra rounded on Vin. "I'm not."

"Oh please," JD said. "You broke Vin."

"I did no such thing. And anyway, if all he says is "dude" how did you know he called me an asshole?"

"Seriously? Is _no one_ else versed in the language of 'Dude'?"

"A single word is not a language, JD."

"Yeah, well—" JD began, but was interrupted by Josiah's low rumbling voice saying "[Ma ma qi ma, ma man, ma ma ma ma.](http://www.learnchineseeveryday.com/2010/08/14/tongue-twister-%E7%BB%95%E5%8F%A3%E4%BB%A4-%E5%A6%88%E5%A6%88%E9%AA%91%E9%A9%AC/)"

"What the hell?" Buck said. "That some kinda Buddhist mantra or something?"

"It's a simple Chinese tongue twister, illustrating how the alteration of tone and pitch can change a single word – ma – into something far more complex and powerful. In such a way can the word "dude" mean many things and no thing."

"Josiah," Nathan said, "You lost me at 'simple' and 'Chinese'."

"Yeah, but now we know who's going to be ordering the food for us the next time we're at Golden Wok," Buck said.

"I don't believe it takes a native speaker to order a 'number 2, extra eggrolls', Buck," Ezra said, then turned back to Chris. "And, all fascinating discussion of phonetics and phonemes aside, I still do not see why this is my fault. Am I Vin's keeper?"

"Well, aren't we all our brother's keepers at one time or another, Ezra?"

"As I recall, Josiah, that particular parable did not end well for either brother."

*

To be honest, Ezra wasn't particularly concerned with Vin's sudden descent into a lexicon of one. Vin Tanner may be a patient man, but Chris was not, and he'd surely put an end to this nonsense soon enough. Besides, Vin far preferred his revenge to be simple, immediate, and effective. As Ezra saw it, so long as he kept himself from reacting to the slaughter of his mother tongue, Vin would surely abandon his scheme by lunch and resort to a more direct attack.

Thus, as annoying – and grating – as it was to have Vin say "dude" to everything from what he'd like for lunch (pulled pork sandwich, extra coleslaw, and a coke) to where he put the keys to the team's van (Buck's desk), Ezra managed to grit his teeth and ignore Vin's little game. It would only last the rest of the day, after all.

After two days – a two days of non-stop "dude"-ing and JD becoming Vin's increasingly more sarcastic shadow – Ezra was forced to admit that he had, perhaps, made an error in his judgment.

"Surely," he said to Nathan, "this has gone on long enough."

"So? Why're you complaining to me?" Nathan said, not bothering to look up from his paperwork. "I ain't the one who started this mess."

"Perhaps not. But I do believe you are the one most capable of fixing it. Can't you declare Vin unfit for work? Did you perhaps miss a head wound? Or perhaps he has contracted some strange disease of the brain – that hole of an apartment of his must be a breeding ground for all kinds of illnesses."

"Ezra," Nathan said, looking up at last, "there are days when I marvel at your deductive reasoning."

"Why thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"That's neither here nor there. The point is, Nathan, that as an educated man you must find Vin's blatant murder of the English language as appalling as I do."

"The point is, Ezra, that you were an ass. Apologize to him and it'll stop."

"Apologize for what?"

"For whatever it was you did."

"But I didn't _do_ anything!" Ezra protested – perhaps a mite louder than he should have, given that this conversation was taking place in the bullpen.

"Dude," Vin said.

*

By the third day, Ezra was becoming more and more convinced that this whole situation was JD's fault. That, or he'd made a mistake of rather epic proportions when he'd foisted his mother off on JD last Thanksgiving.

"There is no way," Ezra said as he scanned the rooftops, "that you managed to get all that out of ' _dude_ '."

"It's true!" JD said. "Vin said that there's a sniper on the southwest corner of the building and that Chris said you needed to put on that dress again and go be a distraction."

"And just how will my being in drag effect the capture of this sniper?"

"Well," JD said, holding the dress out to Ezra, "I'm just the messenger. You should ask Vin."

"Ask Vin," Ezra growled. "Ask Vin. I have tried to ask Vin and instead of a civilized conversation I get a one word insult."

"Dude," Vin said, looking affronted.

"Vin says he thought you looked good in the dress the first time round, if that makes you feel better."

"I bet he did."

" _Dude_ ," Vin hissed, glaring at JD.

"Oh, and he says he'll do the final case report for that bust the other day."

"DUDE!"

"Hey, I'm just translating here."

"See? Even JD thinks you're being childish." Ezra closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Vin, I like to believe that we're both reasonable men. So what will it take to end this foolishness? And if you say 'dude', I may be forced to do something entirely uncivilized."

"Du—" Vin began, then stopped and raised an eyebrow.

"I am not apologizing," Ezra said. "I did absolutely nothing wrong."

Vin snorted and managed to convey with a rather simple, but effective, hand gesture that if that was the way Ezra was going to be about things, then Vin could keep up this whole 'dude' thing for as long as it took, rebellious translator or no rebellious translator – and that JD had better shape up in the translating department if he wanted to avoid a fate worse than Vin.

"It was not my fault that those pendejos shot at us."

"Actually," JD said, "you did jump the gun a little."

"I don't believe I was talking to you, JD."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help here."

"Like volunteering me for paperwork?" Vin said, then muttered. "Fuck. I mean, dude."

"Oh give up, Vin," Ezra said. "As amusing as your little game was, it has quickly become rather pointless now that your co-conspirator has turned on you."

"Look, it was all Vin's plan," JD said.

"Got you all riled up, though, didn't it."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Uh huh." Vin tugged on the brim of his hat. "And even with JD turning on me, I broke you like a two-bit thug. And using your own weapon, too."

"My own—Mr. Tanner, you cannot be laboring under the grave misapprehension that what you did was anything at all like my natural verbal acumen. I, sir, am a master of rhetoric and eloquence. I can spin truth out of lies and turn dross to gold. You spent three days saying 'dude'. They are hardly comparable."

"Still broke you," Vin said smugly.

"Actually, I think I broke the both of you," JD said.

"Oh really." Vin turned to JD and gave him the once over. "Hear that Ezra? Kid thinks he got the best of us."

"Now Vin—"

"Why, yes, Vin, I do believe that was what he said."

"Ezra I—"

"Now, I believe JD said something about a dress?"

"Yeah. And paperwork," Vin said, advancing slowly on JD. "Lots and lots of paperwork."

"Aw, guys. Come on. It was just a joke! Guys?"


End file.
